


Free Air

by 27dragons



Series: 27dragons' Tony Stark Bingo [14]
Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Gen, No Plot/Plotless, Prison, just a random scene, no ships, prison security
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-18
Updated: 2019-05-18
Packaged: 2020-03-07 09:31:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,537
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18870487
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/27dragons/pseuds/27dragons
Summary: Bucky's served his time, and now it’s time to bring him home.(Tony Stark Bingo fill for square T1 - Prison)





	Free Air

The Raft loomed up out of the ocean, a dark and malevolent island. It was less horrific than it had been when Ross was still in charge, but there was only so welcoming a prison could look. It was the only feature visible, even from the helicopter’s vantage point -- no other land, not even a drift of seaweed. International waters, where no one country held jurisdiction. Tony circled it twice while he waited for C&C to give him permission to land -- as if he hadn’t done this every week for the last six months. As if they weren’t expecting him, today of all days.

He rolled his eyes and made rude gestures, but kept his tone even and polite on the radio. Finally, they assigned him a helipad, and he spiraled in for a landing.

He supervised the deck crew as they secured the craft -- it was sunny and calm today, but Tony approved of crew following safety regs even when they didn’t seem to be necessary. You never knew when a squall would blow up. Or when a prisoner would try to escape. So far, no attempts had made it out of the main cell block, but for a place like the Raft, it paid to prepare for the worst.

He made a little small talk with the crew -- he’d gotten to know most of the rotation over the last months -- until they’d double-checked the anchor lines and pronounced them good, and then turned toward the hatch that led into the Raft’s interior.

He walked through at least three different scanners in the initial hallway -- he’d designed two of them and consulted on a third, and the hall was long enough that he suspected there were another couple of detectors he was unaware of. Through the first door, he was subjected to a pat-down. His phone, watch, and bluetooth headset were collected and placed in storage. Tony waited patiently while the clerk wrote out a receipt for the items. He signed it with a flourish and then tucked his copy into his pocket. If he’d brought anything to take inside, they would have examined that, too, to make sure it didn’t contain any contraband, but he was traveling light today.

Finally, security checks complete, Tony was escorted into a waiting room. This was different from the visitation room he was used to; that was under high security, the prisoner’s side encased in Hulk-grade containment polymer, and furnished with a couple of uncomfortable chairs that were bolted to the floor and a somewhat dizzying array of cameras. This room was low-security -- well, low for the Raft, anyway -- with no barriers, warmer lighting, and a holoscreen on one wall. The chairs weren’t much more comfortable, but they weren’t bolted down.

Tony didn’t bother sitting down. He activated the holoscreen, which duly informed him that its use would be restricted and monitored, and then presented a menu: television offerings (mostly news and educational stations in a variety of languages), the day’s schedule, a messaging function.

Tony checked the schedule and was pleased to see there were no last-minute delays. He flipped to a news station and leaned against the opposite wall to wait.

It was only another ten minutes or so later that the door opened again. Tony straightened up just as Bucky Barnes came through the door, closely followed by a guard.

Bucky looked... good. He’d had a shower recently, and his hair was hanging loose and still slightly damp around his face. His hands were cuffed in front of him, but he was wearing the same clothes he’d been wearing when he’d surrendered himself six months ago; Tony hoped they’d been laundered in the meanwhile and not just left to stew in some airless Personal Belongings crate.

“Nice to see you out and about, Buckaroo,” Tony said casually.

“Mr. Stark,” the guard said, “you’re here to provide Mr. Barnes transport back to the United States?” Tony raised an eyebrow at her, and she shrugged a little, just one shoulder. “For the record, Mr. Stark.”

Tony rolled his eyes and hoped the security camera caught it. “Yes, I’m here to give Bucky a ride home.”

The guard nodded and turned to Bucky. “Hands, please, Mr. Barnes.” Bucky lifted his hands obediently. The guard placed her thumb over the imprint and said, “Remote release authorized for restraint system AA-23-2187.” The magcuffs disengaged with a soft click, falling away from Bucky’s wrists to be caught by the guard. “There you go,” she said, smiling a little. “You’re a free man again.”

“Thank you,” Bucky said, and turned a dazzling smile on the guard. “No offense, but I hope I don’t see you again.”

She laughed. “That makes two of us.” She nodded to him and then to Tony. “You’re both free to go.”

Tony gestured toward the open door. “Shall we?”

Bucky followed him back out the way he’d come in, signing his confiscated devices back out and then down the hall of detectors.

The metal detector lit up -- at least there was no blaring alarm -- as Bucky walked through, and he froze, lifting his hands high.

“Thank you, you’re clear to continue,” said a voice over an intercom.

Bucky didn’t drop his hands right away, though. Not until Tony caught his arm and tugged gently. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

Tony pushed open the heavy door that led out onto the deck, and Bucky stopped again as it swung shut behind him, tipping his face up to the sky. Tony didn’t push, just waved at the crew to start releasing the anchor cables on the helicopter again.

Bucky took a long, deep breath, and let it out slowly.

“Feels good to breathe free air, huh?”

Bucky opened his eyes and looked around, at the endless expanse of water surrounding them. “Not quite free yet,” he said, and turned toward the helicopter.

He didn’t say anything else until they’d strapped in and lifted off. Until the Raft was hidden by the horizon. Then he took another one of those deep breaths, and seemed to melt into his seat a little. “Steve still mad?” he asked.

Tony snorted. “Of course he is. He wanted to be the one to pick you up, you know.”

“Figured. That’s why I asked you to do it.”

Tony glanced over, eyebrow raised.

Bucky shrugged. “I’m never gonna not love that dumb punk, but I didn’t want to waste my first hour of freedom explaining to him _yet again_ that my sentence was _more_ than fair.” He’d been exonerated of all crimes committed by the Winter Soldier, by reason of torture and brainwashing. A couple of the jury had actually run from the courtroom to throw up when Helen Cho had given her testimony about what exactly had been done to Bucky’s brain -- never mind the rest of him. The only charges that actually stuck were for things he’d done more recently, after he’d returned to his right mind -- obstruction of justice, evading law enforcement, a couple of others. The lawyers had told Bucky to be prepared to serve up to five years for those, so a six-month sentence was actually pretty light.

Steve, of course, hadn’t seen it that way.

“Well, now that it’s a moot point, maybe he’ll cut back to only raving about it on special occasions,” Tony quipped, and grinned when Bucky laughed.

“Seriously, we’re looking forward to having you around the place,” Tony said. “Got a suite all set aside for you, and once you’re settled in, we’ll have a discussion about what you want to do.”

“Do?”

“Avengers Compound isn’t a vacation resort,” Tony said. “Everyone works.”

Bucky waved that away. “I know that, I just... I assumed I’d be added to the mission rotation.”

Tony hummed and adjusted his altitude. “If that’s what you want, sure. But if you want to hang it up, we’ll find something else. Plenty of stuff that needs doing, and you have plenty of qualifications, or we can get you training for something new. Vehicle maintenance, medical assistant or physical therapy trainer, research and analysis, PR and diplomacy-- Well, maybe not that one, right off the bat.”

Bucky was quiet. Tony glanced over again. Bucky was staring at him in disbelief.

“Hey, don’t worry about it,” Tony said. “You’ll get a week or so to settle in and meet everyone, get the tour, everything. You don’t have to decide now. Just... be thinking about it. People’ve been telling you what to do for entirely too long. I think -- we all think -- it’s past time for you to get to make some of your own decisions.”

“It was my decision to turn myself in,” Bucky said.

“That’s true,” Tony agreed. “How do you feel about that one?”

Bucky looked away, out the windows to where land had appeared on the horizon. “I feel good,” he said after a few minutes. “Like I... did something right.”

“Well, then your decision-making track record is a damn sight better than mine, so far.” Tony revelled in Bucky’s chuckle. He pointed at the swiftly-approaching land. “Almost there,” he said. “You ready?”

Bucky smiled at him, wide and open and happy. “You know, I think I am.”

 


End file.
